NATALYA
Oh, poor little mouse!
ANNA
You owe me twenty, Adam Ivanych. Aha!
SCHAAF
Ins future no partners mit Lisafet Bogdanovna.
MATVEI
(Enters from the ballroom and announces) Ignaty Ilyich is here.
SHPIGELSKY
(Entering behind him) You don’t announce doctors.
Matvei exits.
Greetings, greetings, greetings. (Goes to Anna Semyonovna to kiss her hand) Good afternoon, madam. I trust you’re winning?
ANNA
Winning, hah! I’ve barely broken even . . . And thank God for that! It’s all this villain. (Pointing at Schaaf)
SHPIGELSKY
(To Schaaf) Adam Ivanych, with ladies! How impolite . . . It’s not like you.
SCHAAF
(Grumbling through his teeth) Viz ladies, viz ladies . . .
SHPIGELSKY
(Going over to the round table left) Natalya Petrovna. Mikhail Alexandrych.
NATALYA
Doctor. How are you?
SHPIGELSKY
I like that question very much . . . It means you’re in good health. How are things with me? A decent doctor is always healthy, unless he just up and dies . . . (Laughs)
NATALYA
Sit down. I am in good health, actually . . . but I’m out of sorts . . . And that’s a kind of ill health.
SHPIGELSKY
(Sitting down by Natalya Petrovna) Let’s see about your pulse . . . (He feels her pulse) Ah, nerves, nerves . . . You don’t walk enough, Natalya Petrovna . . . you don’t laugh enough . . . that’s what . . . Mikhail Alexandrych, why are you staring? I could always prescribe you some drops.
NATALYA
I have nothing against laughing . . . (With animation) Now you, doctor . . . you’ve got a wicked tongue, I like that about you, and I respect it! . . . Tell me something funny. Mikhail Alexandrych keeps philosophizing today.
SHPIGELSKY
(Glancing furtively at Rakitin) Obviously it’s not only the nerves suffering—the bile’s also rising a bit . . .
NATALYA
You’re doing it, too! Observe me all you want, doctor, but not out loud. We all know you’re terribly perceptive . . . You’re both very perceptive.
SHPIGELSKY
Yes, ma’am.
NATALYA
Tell us something funny.
SHPIGELSKY
Yes, ma’am. But I haven’t even—just like that (Snaps fingers) . . . tell us a story . . . Allow me a pinch of snuff. (He takes a pinch)
NATALYA
Such preparations!
SHPIGELSKY
My dear Natalya Petrovna, there’s funny and funny. It all depends. Your neighbor, for instance, Mr. Popopkin: show him your little finger, like this, and he just falls apart, choking, weeping . . . but you . . . Well, anyway, I’ll give it a try. Do you know Verenitsyn, Platon Vassilyevich?
NATALYA
I think so, or at least I’ve heard of him.
SHPIGELSKY